


Non-Linearity and the Resulting Conversations

by vriskacircuit



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M, Unbeta'ed, also I'm probably going to regret this later, not a threesome fic i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vriskacircuit/pseuds/vriskacircuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is really killing the afterglow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non-Linearity and the Resulting Conversations

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, everything I write involving Fitz Kreiner turns into slashy Time War-centric angst. EVERYTHING.
> 
> Also this is my first time posting to this site so I basically have no idea what's going on, warning you in advance. The format is so much better than FanFiction Dot Net though.
> 
> This is unbeta'ed, and I'll probably post an updated version later, but for now you're stuck with the one I wrote in a hurry between homework this morning. Sorry.

The year was 1943.

"Wow," said Fitz Kreiner as soon as he could breathe normally.

"I'll take that as a compliment," said the man lying in bed next to him.

"Just... give me a moment." Fitz waited for his senses to return to normal and reflected that he was acting oddly unfazed, considering he'd just had sex with another guy while still fairly lucid. He wondered if this would be some sort of an important milestone on the journey of getting used to this whole bisexuality thing. ...Probably not. He had a feeling that with this particular guy, he'd have been willing no matter his sexual orientation. And the sex was definitely some of the best he'd ever had. 

There was no harm in saying that last bit out loud, so he did.

"You were no slouch yourself," said the man.

"Thanks," returned Fitz, feeling a bit self-conscious. "Wasn't quite expecting that. I mean I I haven't ever really... you know."

"First time with a man?" 

"Not really." Fitz was feeling even more self-conscious at this point. "But I've never been anywhere near this sober for it, and then afterwards I try to convince myself it never happened."

The other guy - Jack, that was his name - nodded sympathetically, but there was something else. He was scrutinizing Fitz with an unreadable expression, and an intensity that hadn't been there before.

Suddenly uncomfortable for a whole different reason, Fitz shifted awkwardly in place. And waited.

"So. Doctor, huh?" said Jack finally. "I'm assuming that's the Doctor?"

"Wha-" began Fitz, but of course if someone asks you about the name of someone very close to you right after sex, it's not hard to figure out the situation. "Did I really -" He thought back, and yes, there had been a moment rather close to the end when he'd felt - imagined - long curly hair brushing against his overheated skin, and the pulse point he could feel in the other man's neck had seemed almost to be beating double-time, and the half-lidded eyes above him looked like a very different shade of blue - and then conscious thought had rather gone out the window. His vocal chords, evidently, had had ideas of their own. "Oh, goddammit."

"Don't worry, it happens to the best of us," said Jack. "But here's a question. This Doctor of yours... What does he look like?"

"Um -" It was very weird calling up a mental image of the Doctor right after having unknowingly gotten off to that same image. "Long curly hair, blue eyes, very pretty -"

"Okay, wrong question," cut in Jack. "What's he like?"

"...Eccentric," replied Fitz. "Acts like the entire universe is one big playground and he's along for the ride. He know the ins and outs of time travel but doesn't understand timezones, can you believe that?" He stopped, aware that this was 1943 and he probably sounded like a madman.

"Don't worry about it," said Jack. "Do I look like a product of this time period? I'm guessing he has a blue box, too."

"You know him?" Fitz raised himself into a sitting position.

Jack didn't answer. Chin propped up on his knees, he spoke as though the world were a long way away. "And you said he's like... like a kid in a candy shop?"

Fitz nodded. "Exactly. He's exactly like a kid sometimes. I mean he's smart, and you don't ever want to get on his bad side, but most of the time he's just..."

Jack nodded, still not looking at Fitz, and took a deep breath. "This is a tricky question," he began, "time travel being what it is, but... Has he said anything about a war?"

"A war?" Fitz shrugged. "I don't know. There are some issues on Gallifrey that he keeps having to deal with, and apparently the other Time Lords are getting worried, but..." He saw the sadness in Jack's eyes, and something clicked in his head, and his blood ran cold. "Oh my God. You're from his future, aren't you?"

Jack nodded wearily.

"What happens?"

There was no reply.

"Tell me what happens!" The words came as a harsh whisper, and Fitz realized his hands were clenching the sheets. He took a deep breath. "Tell me. Please."

Jack shrugs. "Not much to say, really. I don't even know that much myself. But there's a war. And a lot of people die, and it's his fault."

Fitz drew in a sharp breath.

"It was necessary," Jack went on. "He probably saved the universe, in the end. But it broke him. Permanently, I think."

"Oh my God," was all Fitz could say for a while. "Oh my God."

"He's still the same on the surface, going by what you've told me." Jack put a hand on his shoulder. "Still bright and cheerful a lot of the time. He once swapped my gun for a banana when I wasn't looking, then told me not to drop it because it was a good source of potassium. I might add that this was while we were running from a thing that gave me nightmares."

Fitz laughed in spite of himself. "Yeah, that's definitely him."

"Oh, and I forgot to tell you how he looks like now." Jack rearranged himself into a more comfortable sitting position. "Really short hair that's kind of dark. Big nose, even bigger ears. Very good looking in a rugged sort of way, and he doesn't mind me saying so either," he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Fitz snorted. "Pretty minimalist clothing - jeans, T-shirt, jacket, which from the various accounts I've gathered over the years is not at all how he usually dresses."

Fitz considered a moment, then shook his head. "Nope. I can't picture it."

"I told you, the war changed him."

It was a sobering reminder. Fitz felt himself slump back down again.

"Also, the coat he wears?" Jack's eyes strayed to the pile of clothes still on the floor, and Fitz was reminded of the rather strange fact that they were having this entire conversation while naked. "It's always the same beat-up leather jacket. I've never seen him take it off, no matter how anachronistic it looks. I noticed you in the bar today mostly because your jacket looks extremely like his."

Fitz's breath caught in his throat, and he realized one crucial question he'd forgotten to ask. "In this future you're from - am I anywhere in there?"

Jack hesitated, then shook his head.

Fitz dropped his head into his hands. "Dammit."

"Whoa, don't jump to conclusions!" Jack shook him gently. "You're probably living out your life safe and happy on Earth -"

"I wouldn't," retorted Fitz through clenched teeth. "I'd never leave him. Especially if there was a war and - Oh, Christ. He'd need me to be there. I have to be there!"

"But maybe he left you there," replied Jack. His gaze was steady and piercing. "Maybe he did it to keep you safe from the war." He laughed. "He did it to a friend of his the last time I saw him. He loved her, you know. It was for her own good."

Fitz shook his head, but a doubt was working its way in. "He once waited a hundred years for me," he muttered, feeling like a bizarre combination of cheesy idiot and stubborn mule. "He'd never do that."

"A hundred years, huh?" Jack fell back onto the pillows with a sigh. "And did he know you'd be there?"

Fitz nodded.

"Then he's a lucky bastard," breathed Jack. "Do you know, I've been waiting for him since last century and I don't even know if I'll ever see him again?"

"You don't look that old," said Fitz, but cautiously, because you couldn't really trust appearances with age. It was one of the first things he'd learned in the past few months. Years? How long had it been? It felt like forever. He couldn't imagine ever leaving.

"Yeah, well, the TARDIS made me immortal and then I got stranded in the late 19th century," said Jack with a shrug. "So my situation isn't exactly normal."

"If we're on the topic of not-normal things," retorted Fitz, "I'm not really me. I'm a clone with all the memories of the original, and that's kind of the TARDIS's fault too. Still, the original Fitz Kreiner went on to become a creepy bastard, so that's probably for the best."

Jack stared. "Okay, maybe that's weirder than me."

"And I have a bunch of useless powers, like being good at crosswords and having a brain that computers really appreciate or something."

"You win, you're the weirdest," said Jack, laughing a little. "Oh, by the way, where's the Doctor? Your Doctor, I mean." He looked a little wistful, and Fitz wondered what it must be like, to have waited for so long and to have to stay away when everything was finally almost within reach.

"Went off to try to resolve some sort of crisis," said Fitz. "He basically just dropped me off at a pub and told me to enjoy myself, then dashed off to be a hero."

"Sounds like him."

"Of course it's him." Fitz sat up and swung both legs off the bed.

"You're not going to stay for the night?"

Fitz shook his head, pulling his clothes back on. "Sorry, no. Don't take it personally or anything, but this is the Doctor we're talking about and he's probably managed to land himself in some serious trouble already." He paused in pulling on the leather jacket. "You're sure this is the same jacket?"

"Absolutely," said Jack, leaning forward and shamelessly tracking the motion of Fitz's fingers rebuttoning his shirt. "Now that I know who you are... I'm positive."

"Right." Fitz gripped the edges of the material and tried not to think about the upcoming war, where the Doctor would be forever changed and he himself would, one way or another, be gone. And the Doctor would keep the jacket. Why? An apology, a keepsake? Was it a parting gift or something picked up off the ground when the original owner no longer needed it?

Best not to think about that. The future was a vast and complicated place.

"Do yourself a favor." Jack's voice broke into his thoughts. "When you get back to the TARDIS? Shag him. Going by how you are in bed, not to mention your out-of-control vocal chords that sort of betray your inner thoughts, you'll wind up thanking me for this advice. Both of you."

Fitz felt a little lightheaded. "All right then."

"Also..." Jack's eyes took on a more serious cast. "Could you maybe tell him I..." He trailed of. "Nah. Tell you what. Instead of dragging my complicated time-travelly feelings into this, tell him you love him. It'll do him good to have someone stand by him like that." He gave Fitz a long searching look. "You do love him, don't you? I might have read it wrong, but that's what it feels like."

Fitz was surprised by the fact that he didn't really feel like denying that last statement, that the words struck a quiet sort of chord and settled down comfortably inside of him. The knowledge made him feel dizzy, like looking off a cliff. He gave a small nod. "Bye, then."

"Bye." Jack Harkness gave a lazy salute. "And good luck."

Fitz left the room.

-

He found the Doctor a couple blocks away, hurrying down the street towards him. "Fitz! Fitz! Oh thank goodness, I've been looking for you!" He seized Fitz's arm and began dragging him away, towards where the TARDIS was parked about half a mile off. "The negotiations didn't go as planned, meaning they thought I was a lunatic and tried to do a number of very nasty things to me -" This was all spoken while running at breakneck speed, and Fitz found himself thoroughly disoriented. " - so we'd better go back to the TARDIS for now and try to think of a better idea. Or maybe just leave, it wasn't really worth coming here in the first place -"

"Are you telling me there are police after us?" demanded Fitz, as soon as his head felt screwed on properly.

"Yes, so RUN!"

-

It was a couple hours later, and the TARDIS was drifting through the space between two binary stars while the Doctor tinkered with the console. Fitz was standing beside him, absently toying with a corner of his jacket - that old thing he'd never really looked at twice until today - and thinking. And watching the Doctor be there, just there, his Doctor, still bright and beautiful and not yet weighed down by his actions.

"Fitz, is something wrong?" The Doctor turned to him with a look of concern. "You've been staring at me for the better part of a minute."

"You do it all the time," replied Fitz, and then leaned forward and kissed the Doctor, as lightly and casually as if he'd done it a thousand times before, and why hadn't he, really? It came as natural as breathing.

"What was that for?" asked the Doctor, looking a little pleased, a little surprised, and a little confused.

"I don't know," said Fitz honestly. "But - you've got me, yeah? No matter what happens, you've still got me."

The Doctor nodded. "Thank you," he said. "That means rather a lot to me, actually," and then he kissed Fitz back.

(Some time later Fitz followed Jack's first piece of advice, and then, when the Doctor was warm and sleepy beside him and the future was heavy in his mind, he followed the second. The whispered words dropped like stones into the darkened room; hesitantly and all at once.

The Doctor shifted and pulled him closer and made a sort of quiet noise that didn't really have any words, but Fitz understood.)


End file.
